


Gator Tears

by SelmaGravys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, New Orleans au, some mad lovin' later probably, southern voodoo, story of revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 14:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10388871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelmaGravys/pseuds/SelmaGravys
Summary: New Orleans, 1914: After their parents die, she and her siblings are sent to grow up with the family of their father's old childhood friend. Now living in a massive southern mansion, the grieving but still curious Sansa Stark can't help but meet all sorts of different people at her new home: both friendly and wicked, but all madly interesting. Especially the household's custodian, Petyr Baelish has caught her eyes. He fascinates and frightens her at the same time, not quite knowing yet if he's gonna be a friend or foe.





	

**Prologue**

As Petyr Baelish stepped down the stairs that led to his bedchambers to join the rest of the personnel of Casterly Manor - and of course its genteel owners - to sup in the dining hall as every other evening, he felt that something was amiss today. The feeling came from inside his stomach and it was to Petyr as if some sort of dark awareness was pulling on his bowels. A painful and strange sensation.  
He wasn’t hungry. Baelish was accustomed to live on mainly small meals and he compensated for that with the consumption of just an extra large amount of tobacco.  
But there was nothing happening in Casterly Manor without the shrewd custodian noticing it. And what he noticed this evening must be something grand.  
When supper would be over, Petyr reckoned Robert Baratheon would at least let his most trusted counselor in on it. When you think of the devil - no, maybe not the devil but definitely a close relative, appears: Myranda Royce was strutting along the hallway steering towards him. And something written plainly on her face - small mouth pressed tightly together as if she was forcing herself not to shout at him - was telling him she had information.  
Myranda was his only friend at Casterly Manor. Instead of regarding the small man’s cunning with distrust she admired it and also Petyr had taken a quick liking to the head housemaid’s sharp mind. And they both shared a particular pastime: the gossip surrounding their masters and colleagues. They relished it as much as Robert and his spouse did their beloved alcohol.  
‘Robert ain’t gonna be at supper tonight,’ she drawled as soon as she was within Petyr’s - and only Petyr’s - hearing range. Well, that _was_ odd. But Littlefinger feigned disinterest: ‘That so? When would our dear Robert ever miss the chance to indulge in an evening full of wine and the dishes he specifically orders your girls to prepare?’  
‘Never!’ she blurted out. ‘I believe he will still get his fair share of drinking tonight.’  
‘How’s that?’  
Myranda did not answer him quite away but instead kept Petyr from taking the stairs that would finally lead them to the main floor. ‘You got a cigarette for your favorite Randa?’  
He couldn’t help but smile - and not for the first time either - at how much the stout woman and he were alike: Two chimney’s looming over the Lannister’s mansion, always present and always smoking.  
With deft fingers, adorned with several rings, he snatched a silver case out of his pocket and from it he fetched two smokes, Royce thanked him as she took the one he held out. A lighter was already in her hands.  
‘So I was just making my routine,’ she began, ‘and as I went to clean Robert’s rooms, I heard actual sobbing coming from inside. You know how he’s usually the first one downstairs to grab the good stuff? Anyways, I couldn’t even imagine he could cry so I reckoned somebody else must’ve been in there. I knocked carefully and all hell broke loose. From the bellowing I knew that it was indeed him. “I dare you to enter!” he was shouting, “ _I double dare you!_ Nobody shall disturb me tonight, ya hear me? Not a soul!” Then everything went quiet. For a few more moments I still stood behind the door, considering if I should ask if he needed help but I decided against it. It is known Robert has his outbursts every now and again but I’ve never seen him loose it like that.’  
Only after Myranda was done with her tale she took the second drag of her cigarette. Petyr chuckled a bit at this mental image of Robert Baratheon bawling his eyes out and Randa glared at him disapprovingly. ‘Smirk all you want, Littlefinger. This is serious, I’m tellin’ ya. Having to do with Cersei. I bet on it.’  
‘All of Robert’s problems have to do with the Lannisters in one way or another.’  
‘Or maybe he’s finally gone bankrupt. What do the number’s say, Mister Custodian?’  
‘His have never looked good ever since I can remember. The ones of his lovely in-law family however… Should it affect our occupation here, I reckon Her Majesty will let us know tonight.’  
Her Majesty. That’s how Petyr and Myranda referred to the woman of the house. Cersei Lannister, only daughter to Tywin and Joanna Lannister who got her mother’s looks and her father’s iron grip over the Lannister name and property. She might be a Baratheon by law now but she was still her parent’s child. A family to whom only power, prestige, and a filled purse counted. Yes, it was a quite fitting name: Though it was not in their blood, the Lannister’s attitude could only be described as _royal_.  
The two of them stood on the top of the stairs in silence for a while, continuing their smoking. No matter how much alike in character they were, they did make a rather strange-looking couple, appearance-wise: Though both rather short, Myranda was plump and round while Petyr was slim and had a chiseled face to him. But both of them shared a similar purpose here in Casterly Manor: Cleaning after their masters. Randa was responsible for the more obvious tidying-up, Petyr’s workplace was concentrated solely on paper.  
The housemaid beamed, went to the next window to open it and flip out her finished smoke, Baelish following her example. One final look outside and he saw that the sun must’ve shown herself for the last time today.  
‘Let us be surprised,’ he chirped and offered Myranda his arm to take and they both went downstairs.  
  
‘We are all just _shattered_ at these sad, sad news,’ Cersei Lannister announced in her husband’s stead tonight when the entire personnel of Casterly Manor had learned of Eddard and Catelyn Stark’s deaths. She was faking a sigh and her demeanour was overly dramatical. A bad actress through and through. She could not even hide a small smile that had started to form on her red lips after she was done with her speech.  
‘Yeah, just shattered,’ Myranda Royce said and then directly to Petyr: ‘Seen that?’ Knowing she meant Cersei’s sneer he nodded weakly.  
‘The Starks had children, had they not? Did you know about that?’  
Petyr knew.  
And Petyr Baelish was thankful for once the Lannister woman had all eyes on her at this moment because the only one who seemed truly shattered by these news was Robert, presumably drinking away his sorrows over his now dead childhood friend and Petyr who himself felt like he could use a strong one. And no one - not even Myranda - should know of that.  
Because while the late Stark had been a lifelong companion to Baratheon, Baelish had grown up in the Tully household, Cat’s family. His friendship to her siblings had been deep and Petyr’s love for Catelyn even deeper.  
‘Robert and I,’ she continued, ‘have come to the conclusion it would be best to think of their children and let them grow to adulthood here, in Casterly Manor. It is not only my home but also that of my dear husband and under the tutelage of their father’s old childhood friend I’m sure the Stark children will be able to continue to live a life…’ Cersei’s eyes narrowed, ‘they are so _used to_. Too much change can be difficult for children.’ She nodded her head knowingly and shot a glance at her and Robert’s own: Joffrey, Myrcella, and little Tommen. None of them quite understood what was really going on nor did they care, spoiled children let their boredom show easily. At the mention of strangers - possible playmates their age - Myrcella’s and Tommen’s heads snapped up though and they looked at their mother with hopeful eyes. Joffrey, the eldest was the only one who crossed his arms and put on an even bigger pout than before.  
‘While we will be attending the funeral, I ask you to make the necessary arrangements. Starting tomorrow,’ and with that she was finished.  
  
After everyone had gathered up again, the maids had gone into the kitchens to clean up, and the rest of the personnel were drawing back into their sleeping chambers, Petyr went by the same window Myranda and him had tossed their cigarettes out of about an hour ago. It was pitch black outside. Soon the days would come where the sun would stay outside a bit longer but there wouldn’t be a lot of light inside Petyr’s heart for a long while, he learned _that_ much tonight.  
Eddard Stark was nothing to him. He was the one who took his sweet Cat away from him in the first place. Now she’s really gone, Petyr thought to himself. For good. And here he had been thinking that after all these years any news of Catelyn Tully - who was Catelyn Tully no longer - wouldn’t affect him in the slightest.  
Her death had been one knowledge he hadn’t been too keen on learning about at all though.  
He stopped in the hallway for a moment and let his eyes wander over its walls and the oil paintings adorning them: They all pictured the Lannister family in some way: Portraits of long dead ancestors, those same ancestors on a hunting party (Robert Baratheon had brought back that tradition), and scenes of parents in front of a fireplace spending time with their children.  
Baelish had served the Lannisters for most of his adulthood and now that same family would bring him together with the offspring of his beloved childhood friend. Meeting them at their parent’s funeral where Cat - lying in a coffin - would be lowered into the earth where she would rest forever. The world was small and God had a funny way of ruling over it sometimes. Unsmiling about the Lord’s funny ways, he went upstairs.  
  
Petyr was still leaning over his balcony when the sun began to rise. It did not seem right even to him to go to sleep on this dreadful night. Usually he made sure to keep his cigarette case filled. He had smoked away every last one of them while looking over the vast gardens of Casterly Manor. They looked as lovely as ever: Trees older than the building which they surrounded, looking like huge wooden guards protecting its high residents, flowers blooming almost all year around, and further ahead you could see Lake Pontchartrain, its waters reflecting a mixture between the last soft light of the moon and the first reds of the sun.  
The Lannisters had settled into paradise, all right. But surely they would make it into hell for the Stark children. For Cat’s children.  
Joffrey’s face last evening showed he didn’t want no playmates and no strange kids about on his family’s property. And Cersei. Cersei would play at being southern hospitality incarnate at first but that was as fake as the crocodile tears she’d be crying at the upcoming funeral. Petyr smiled a cynical smile to himself. Not exactly, he thought. There are no crocodiles in New Orleans. Here we cry _gator tears_.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a small introduction to what I plan on turning into an ongoing story. I've had this idea in my head for a while now but have been drawn back to actually putting it down and (now) out there.  
> My writing has always felt to me like it - simply put - was just no good at all. Now I've tried to actually pull myself together a bit and give it a go. This fandom has welcomed me so warmly when I first joined Tumblr and I enjoy these two so much that I became a little less afraid to work with them in a different medium. I've always loved making up stories and becoming better at writing in English that the risk of embarrassing myself all of a sudden seemed totally worth it.  
> Well, I hope you enjoyed this and if you could let me know if you'd like to see me continue this, I'd be totally stoked.
> 
> \- S.G.


End file.
